Thing's I'll Never Say
by Funkyicecube
Summary: There's a new girl at G Major. And she's hiding something. Jommy, Spiederman/OC.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: So, here it is. Chapter 1! It's taken me a while to get up but I'm happy with how it's going so far. There's no Jommy in this chapter, but there will be in future ones. Leave a review!_

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Rosalina Manson was created by a friend and remains the property of her, as well as the characters and idea of Instant Star._

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Water splashed into the sink, the sound cutting the silence like a knife. l was bent over, glancing in the cracked mirror that hung on the dirty wall. Usually people said I was a pretty girl, with my long brown hair (with various coloured highlights), apparently gorgeous blue-grey eyes, a small nose and full lips, but today... I was trying to hide the fact that I looked noticeably different. Make up was scattered all over the counter top but I was careful to keep the tiled surface tidy. Anything right now could set him off and I didn't want that to happen. Currently he was sat in the sitting room, watching the football game with a can of beer, still seething over the argument we had just had. I knew better then to get in his way, so I had just disappeared into here, partly to clean myself up and partly to just be alone for a bit. Reaching over for a pot of foundation, a noise from outside startled me and I jumped, spilling powder all over the countertop. Shit. Hurriedly, I grabbed a wad of toilet tissue and wet it under the tap, the paper going soggy in my hand. Wiping the surface, I cleaned quickly and desperately kept an eye out for any pale cream powder that was left. The last time he had found some, I walked with a limp for two weeks.

My name's Rosalina, his is Deryck. And I thought we were happy. We met at a bar a couple of months ago. Now, I know you're all wondering why a fifteen year old would be at a bar, but I was performing. Trust me; I don't drink... a lot. My family life has never been good, both parents were junkies and my brother followed in their footsteps. I fell into alcohol abuse but after finding out the details of what it was doing to me, I quit. Cold turkey. Keeping sober was hard though... very hard, and after two months I caved. Oopsie? Anyways, me and Deryck got talking and one thing led to another. No, not sex. We started to date, and after he found out about my home life, he let me move in with him. I loved him so of course I said yes, not thinking of the consequences until later.

Throwing the cloth in the trash, I inspected the white tiles, noticing they were spotless. Good. My head lifted back up to the mirror and I stared long and hard at the girl who was looking back. Praying that it wasn't actually me, my hand traced a bruise that was on my cheek and then dabbed at the cut on my lip. Once again, I picked up the powder, starting the tedious task of hiding the evidence. The sounds of the television and Deryck's victory cries could be heard clearly as I worked quickly and silently, not wanting him to have anything else to yell about. This time it had been because I had forgotten to make our bed that morning.

A knock on the door and I was shocked out of my thoughts, a commercial jingle now filling the air. I jumped slightly but then realized how stupid I was being and took a deep breath to calm myself. Opening the door, Deryck's large frame filled the doorway. When we had first met, he had been totally 'emo', with his black hair and alternative fashions. He said that he fell for my because of my 'skater girl' attitude, that he like my 'I take no shit from anyone' personality. Now that I think about it, I think he was just looking for a naïve young girl to control.

"Rosa, baby, you okay?"

Oh how I wanted to scream in his face and tell him to fuck off. There was no concern for me, not in his voice. His arms wrapped around my waist and pulled me flush against his body. The stench of cigarette smoke and alcohol covered him, my nose wrinkling in disgust. A finger lifted my chin and I found myself kissing him, my lips covered by his. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't resist and I kissed him back, my arms looping around his neck. We pulled back after a few seconds and his blue eyes found mine.

"Forgive me?"

All it took was this one whisper to make me nod my head and in an instant we were making out and heading into the bedroom… whoa wait. I certainly wasn't that stupid. Just as he began to lift my shirt, I pulled back. My foot caught the edge of the shaggy rug and I fell, my feet slipping out from under me, sending me to the floor. Deryck was scowling and I could sense the anger boiling up inside of him.

"Get out! Now! Pack your things and go!"

His hand struck my face and the sting made my eyes water, my legs automatically curling to my chest as he kicked me in the stomach and continued to strike me in the face. Tears streamed down my cheeks and I bit my lip to prevent any cries from leaving my mouth. I had shouted and whimpered before which had only caused him to hurt me even more. My eyes squeezed shut and I felt my body start to ache all over, but I desperately tried to wait it out. Breathe… in, out, in, out… count to ten.

Just as I reached seven, Deryck stopped and walked through to the bedroom, I heard the closet open. A case was thrown on the floor before he stormed out, slamming doors behind him. Slowly, ever so slowly, I pushed myself up, wincing as I did so. Everything, and I mean everything, was hurting. Blood was dripping down from a cut on my forehead, where his ring had struck my porcelain coloured skin, the red a shocking contrast to the usually pale white, and my lip was split, the tangy taste of blood striking my taste buds whenever I licked my lips. Gripping the toilet, I pulled myself up and stumbled through to the bedroom, starting to gather my things. There was no use hoping that he would change his mind, his word was always final. I guess it was back to my family home… no matter how much I hated it. It was either there or a cardboard box in the gutter.

It took me a while to collect everything I had brought with me. It wasn't a lot, but my body protested every time that I tried to bend over or kneel to pick something up. The slightest movement hurt, but I had to work as fast as I could, not wanting to risk another beating. After twenty minutes or so, everything that belonged to me was in my small case. Pulling on my jacket over the pair of ripped jeans and the old band shirt that I wore, I pushed my feet into a pair of beaten up Converse high tops, before taking my case and guitar in hand and leaving.

There was a slight chill in the air as I walked, the run down area of Toronto full of people smoking and drinking, even if it was only six pm. Every thing was filthy, the buildings, the streets, the people… I guess that would include me then. I grew up in this area and I would probably be here for the rest of my life. Silently, I traced the path I had taken for years, heading back into the area full of houses that were falling down. Doors and windows were boarded up, front yards overgrown and most were abandoned. When I arrived at the place I had once called 'home', my hand shakily reached out and pushed the gate open. It was hanging off its hinges and squeaked as though in pain. Dragging my things through the disgusting pathway of broken glass and cigarette ends, I leaned on the broken door, the piece of wood that had been used to patch it up swinging open and letting me inside.

The first sound that reached my ears was the snores of my drunken brother Brendan. He was passed out on the couch, a bottle of beer still in his hand. Not much had changed. Movements in the kitchen told me that my mom was getting ready for work. Just before I moved out, she got a new job as a barmaid at one of the local strip joints and works during the evenings. As she dashed out of the other room, wearing a very short black skirt and tight red top, she saw me and scowled. I was nothing but trash in her eyes. Always had been and always will be.

"I see you're back. Finished with him eh? You little whore."

I rolled my eyes in response and grabbed my things, dragging them up to my room. It was still the same. Posters of rock bands covered the walls and ceiling, my old bed was in the corner, a dresser was on the other side and a mirror hung crooked on the door to the built in closet. It wasn't much, but it was my personal space. I had a lock on the door and it kept me locked away from the rest of my dysfunctional world. Dumping my bag in the middle of the room, I got my guitar out of its case, grabbed one of my song journals from the front pocket of it and took out an old pencil.

The funny thing is… inspiration hits at the strangest of times.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Here it is! Chapter 2! Unfortunately, no jommy as of yet. But next chapter I promise! A huge huge thank you to my beta Larissa (JudendTommy) for sorting out the little grammar mistakes/me missing out words as I was typing too fast!_

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_I awoke to the sun shining through my window, the morning making itself known to my tired eyes. My body still ached, although luckily it was less than yesterday, and I pulled the covers up over my head, desperately wanting to fall back into the welcoming depths of sleep. Oh but fate was cruel and wouldn't allow it, the sun, more than anything, stopping me from achieving my goal. Dragging myself out of the warm comforts of my bed, I stopped to peer at my reflection in the mirror. Strands of brown, black, blonde and green hair stuck up everywhere and my eyeliner and black eye shadow had smudged, giving me the resemblance of a raccoon. Great. Sticking my tongue out at my reflection, I padded through to the bathroom to get myself cleaned up and ready for whatever was going to happen today.

Twenty minutes later and I stepped out of the shower with a towel wrapped around my body, my hair hanging around my face in wet strands. I have to admit that I was disgusted with my appearance. Maybe I had a case of wanting to change purely because of the break-up, but whatever it was, the problem was my hair. Cutting it was a huge no. I had spent years growing it to the length that it currently was – just below my shoulders – and I was happy with that… it was the colour. I hated it. Pure hate. Well, whoever invented the hair dye should be knighted or be made a saint or something. Quickly throwing on a pair of scruffy jeans, a black band shirt and a pair of sneakers, I grabbed my skateboard and my purse, and headed to the drugstore.

Okay, so to say that I hadn't thought about what colour I wanted was true, and I have to admit that I thought it would be easy to pick out a colour once I got to the store. Oh how I was wrong. How the fuck can I chose from hundreds of colours that are all similar, some shades making it hard to tell that they were different from the box beside them. There was one box that did catch my eye though. It was a beautiful natural blonde. Now, I've never even thought about going blonde, a few years ago and I would have died if I even thought about it. But now…? The chance was there, and I was curious to see what I would look like as a blonde. Picking up the box, I studied it in my hands. Yeah…yeah, this was the colour. It just seemed rather... I don't know. Boring? All one colour. Looking at the highlight kits, I wanted something unusual, something like the green that was currently highlighting my hair. The second box to catch my eye was that of a hot pink. Putting the hot pink colour beside the blonde that I held in my hands, I was convinced. This was it. Paying the five bucks for them, I skated home, glad that my mother was working and my brother was out. Locking myself in my bathroom, I spent over an hour working on my hair. I was completely happy with the results. My hair was now a natural looking blonde and I had parted it in a side fringe, giving it a bit (but not much) of a trim, colouring the right side with one single hot pink highlight.

The rest of the morning went pretty smoothly. I wrote a new song, went down to Starbucks for some coffee, and then sat in the park with my guitar. I've had a licence to busk for a while now, and used it to get myself extra money when it was needed. Sitting on the grass, softly strumming, I sang my newest songs. I had been singing since I could remember and taught myself to play the guitar, piano and drums. My first song was written at ten years old. I vividly remember being so proud of it… even if it was about a goldfish. Okay, so maybe it wasn't something I should have been proud of, but I was ten! Goldfish were all the rage!

People passed by, occasionally dropping in coins, some even stopping to just listen. Now, most of them didn't stay for longer then five or so seconds, but one person just stood until I had finished the song. Looking up, I squinted against the sun and found myself meeting eyes with an incredibly gorgeous guy. His hair was brown and slightly shaggy, his eyes were blue and his smile was oh my God worthy. He motioned to the floor and I nodded. Yeah, of course he could sit. Especially when he looked like that. He sat beside me and looked over my shoulder at the chords I had scribbled down.

"Play that for me?"

His voice was soft and he sounded interested, so I glanced at the chords before I played them for him, watching his facial expressions as I did.

"Your progression isn't landing right. May I?"

He motioned for my guitar this time and I handed it to him silently. He seemed to know what he was doing and he took the instrument expertly in his hands, looking once again at the chords before changing them slightly. My song sounded so much better and I noticed that he continued to play the notes I had written down, so I sang along. When we finished, we just stared at each other, small smiles on our faces. Something magical had just happened and I passed him my pencil to write down the changes.

His voice caught me off guard as I found myself staring again.

"I'm Spiederman. Well, actually it's Vincent, but no one calls me that, so it's just Spiederman… or Spied."

A smile crept up onto my lips and I found myself smirking at how he was rambling. It was cute. Somewhere I had heard that if a guy rambles while talking to you, it means he likes you. I don't know how true that is, but I hope it's true.

"I'm Rosalina."

My name was simple and I laughed quietly, looking down and then back up. I found myself blushing and tucked some of my hair behind my ear. Okay, so maybe it was obvious that I liked him. Even though I had only met him what must be five minutes or so ago, I had this feeling in my stomach, like butterflies, that I had never gotten with any other guy that I had told myself I liked. Spied's voice brought me out of my thoughts and my head whipped up.

"You know, you're really good. Come with me."

I raised an eyebrow and hurriedly stood, taking the hand that he offered to help me up. Packing my acoustic in its case, we started walking out of the park and further into town. Where the hell we were going, I had no idea as I hardly ever came to this part of the city. His hand was still holding onto mine and we talked about different things. Our topic of conversation ranged from music, to school, to everything else under the sun. I was currently trying to convince him that the Beatles were greater than Pink Floyd, when we stopped outside of a building.

G Major Records? He had to be kidding me right? He had said I was good, but there was no way in hell I'd be good enough to record anything. My feet wouldn't move and Spied seemed to notice my anxiety, as he gently tugged on my hand and pulled me through the doors.

"Come on Rosie… follow me."

Rosie. It sounded nice. I'd never been called that before, but if it came from his mouth like that, I'd love to hear it more often. I took in the atmosphere of the busy record label. People were bustling everywhere, doing their jobs. I could see people recording in the studio, people sitting behind desks answering phones and even someone making a sandwich. This was the type of place I had always dreamed of working, dreamed of making my own albums, of getting my music out there. I moved on autopilot, finding myself being taken through a set of huge double doors, into a blue tinted gold room, that seemed to reek of power. A man was sat behind the desk and I recognized him instantly. It was Darius Mills, the all-powerful hip-hop mogul. Everyone knew that he was it in the music business. If you worked with him, you had made it.

"D, I have G Major's next big thing with me."

Spied's voice shocked me out of my thoughts once again, and I blushed. Seriously? Is that what he seriously thought after hearing only one of my songs? Darius nodded but stayed silent, moving around the front of the desk to sit on it. Spiederman pulled my guitar from my case and handed it to me, encouraging me to start playing. So I did. I ran through one of my songs, making sure I sang every note right, that I played every chord correctly. Silence was what greeted me when I had finished, and Darius was smiling. Was that good? Turning to look at Spied, I saw he was smiling too. All of a sudden, Darius began applauding, which made me jump and got a chuckle from the beaming hip-hop mogul that stood in front of me.

"What's your name?"

What? Oh, um… my name? Okay, so I wasn't that nervous, but it was still a big deal. When I spoke, my voice sounded confident, but on the inside I was shaking.

"Rosalina Manson."

Darius stepped over to a filing cabinet that stood in the corner of the room behind his desk and opened a drawer, pulling out a piece of paper. He passed it to me and I was completely shocked.

"Welcome to G Major Records."


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Here's chapter 3! Sorry it took so long to get up! A big thank you to my beta Larissa... and sorry to everyone for the ending..._

Sitting in a leather office chair, idly spinning around while waiting for my producer to show up is actually very boring. I've been sat here now for at least twenty minutes and still, no show. I tried writing a new song, but my mind has been invaded by mental block, Spied came to say hi, but had to dash off again, being chased around by his 'girlfriend'. Seriously, something inside me hurt when I found out he was dating. Now, I wouldn't mind if she was nice, but when he introduced me to her... well, it wasn't great that's for sure.

_"Karma, honey. I'd like you to meet Rosalina."_

_I looked up as Spied walked in with a rather tall, Asian looking woman who reeked of flowery perfume. She looked down her nose at me as I stood, my small five foot one frame swamped by her five foot six-ish one. I held out my hand for her, but she ignored it and turned to Spied._

_"Oh Spiedy, are they letting in anyone nowadays? Look at her, she's a mess." Turning, she stomped off in her over-priced, annoyingly high heeled shoes. Spied offered me an apologetic look before chasing after her as I resisted the urge to follow and punch her in the face... instead, I flipped the finger at her while Spied wasn't looking. 'Karma', definitely not her real name, scowled and probably would have retaliated had Spied not pulled her to one of the studios._

The hands on the clock ticked around slower and slower each time I looked at it and my hands strummed random chords on my worn acoustic guitar. Every so often, my voice sang lines of songs I had already written, or had half written, but my mind refused to get off the latest topic of interest... Vincent Spiederman. Ugh, when I saw him dragging Karma off, I had gotten what one may call 'butterflies' in my stomach and had wanted to just grab him and kiss him. Now that I knew he was off limits however... whoa. Wait. Grabbing my battered song journal from my bag, I opened it to a clean page and began scribbling down lyrics, singing them to myself as I wrote.

Just as I reached the chorus, the door opened and I looked up, hoping to see Spied there. Unfortunately, my wish for him to be there exclaiming his love for me didn't happen, and instead, I saw a young couple giving each other a quick kiss before the girl walked off and the guy entered the studio, sitting down in the chair opposite me. The girl looked familiar, and I swear I had seen her before. If it was who I thought it was... that would make the guy in front of me one very hot ex-boybander. Oh dear God... what was with me and guys today?! Making sure I had the right person, I opened my mouth to talk, and a fairly shy voice escaped it. Was that mine?

"Tom Quincy?"

He nodded and I smiled. At least now I was certain that the blonde girl who had walked off was none other than Jude Harrison. Tom's eyes looked me over, taking in the so called mess that was me. A smirk was on his face and he shook his head, chuckling quietly to himself.

"You must be Rosalina?"

Nodding my head, I smiled and brushed some of my now blonde and pink hair from my eyes, something I only ever did when I was nervous. He noticed this, and motioned to my journal, trying to break the ice that had formed between us. "So, uh, what've you got?"

At the mention of my new song, I blushed and handed him the book, watching as he read it over and smirked. "So, you must really like Spiederman if you're planning on slating his girlfriend through song."

Reaching forward, I snatched my journal back, mumbling something about it not having anything to do with that, even if that was a blatant lie. Tommy smirked again, which turned my scowl into a smile and just like that, the ice had been broken. The next hour was spent by Tommy looking through my journal and pointing out songs that he liked, getting me to play them, as well as finishing my new song. He pointed at the sound booth as he set up the board and I went inside, taking a few minutes to just get over the fact that I was actually going to record something, when this morning I had been sat on my ass in the park. Talk about crazy. Slipping the headphones on, I stepped in front of the microphone and waited for him to count me down before I started singing.

Two hours later and I had the song done. All that was left now was for Tommy to mix it. The amount of times that I had sung the words "Hey, hey" and "You, you" was getting to me and I sighed as I flopped down on the couch in the artists lounge, a bottle of water in my hands. I hadn't noticed that two other guys were playing on two dance mats that were connected to a playstation on the plasma TV... well; I hadn't noticed them until one started yelling that victory was his. When I groaned from the headache that was starting to form, they turned and smiled at me, heading over to the couch I was sat on.

"Hey. You the new intern?"

Scoffing, I sat up and downed some water.

"Ha! No. I'm the new artist." Chuckling at the look of horror on their faces, I shook my head. "Don't worry, I'm not insulted." The look of relief that followed made me laugh again and I lifted my hand to them. "Rosalina."

The blonde one was the first to shake my hand, followed by the taller one who had dark brown hair, before they introduced themselves as Kyle and Wally. So, we started talking and twenty minutes or so later, I was on the dance mat, fighting Kyle for the highest score. What? I can dance. My victory was cut short though, as Tommy appeared by the couch, motioning for me to come and listen to the final song. Sitting down in the chair, I noticed that Jude was now in the room, as well as a good looking Black man. I was worried that they wouldn't like it and listened as my voice filled the room. Whoa. Everything that Tommy had done to it made it sound amazing…

Later that evening, I was lying in my bed, tear stains now drying on my cheeks, bruises covering my body and my lip split. I held onto my cell phone, and mentally debated on whether or not to press the call button, a number highlighted on screen. Deciding against it, I turned my phone off, put it on the nightstand, and fell into a restless sleep.


End file.
